


Vessels, Let Out To Sea

by geckoholic



Category: Terminator Genisys (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Apocalypse, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-24
Updated: 2016-10-24
Packaged: 2018-08-24 10:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8369590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: Judgement Day isn't supposed to happen anymore.

  And for a whole three years, it doesn't.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ardentaislinn](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ardentaislinn/gifts).



> This is me running with your prompt for an AU in which the apocalypse still happened; I hope it's at least kinda what you hoped for. It draws from Terminator 3, so anyone who've watched all the movies might recognize the general idea.
> 
> Beta-read by kisss-me-cassie. Thank you!! ♥ All remaining mistakes are mine.
> 
> Title is from "Vessels" by Sinch.

The world goes to shit in a less than a day. Sarah isn't terribly surprised by this. when other young girls hid underneath their blankets with a flashlight to read love stories or adventures after bed time, she had Pops, telling her over and over again about Judgment Day. He had extensive records about that: the system takeover, the bombs, the immediate fallout. In the last few months, she'd let herself forget some of the details he'd spent years hammering into her head. It's not supposed to happen anymore.

And for a whole three years, it doesn't.

 

***

 

Settling down anywhere doesn't come easy to either Sarah or Kyle, and Pops has no preference, which is why they keep moving. A few months here, a couple weeks there. They move when they get antsy, but it's not fear anymore that keeps them on the run, it's the inability to put down roots. That was ingrained in both of them from childhood, and they find it's easier to just give in.

They're in New Mexico, a small town at the edge of the Mojave desert. They've been staying here long enough to have a favorite diner where the waitresses all smile and nod at them with recognition when they enter. Sarah settles in the booth they take every morning, and Kyle pads to the counter to order without having to ask what she wants. She pulls one foot up to her chest, resting it on the worn leather of the seat, and yawns. He heads back her way in time to watch the tail end of it, and his expression becomes warm and fond. Sarah rolls her eyes at him, but she can't keep her own heart from growing a size. She's happy. She's safe. She never thought either would be possible.

The TV in the corner of the diner babbles on low volume, a steady background noise but hardly loud enough to make out what's being said unless she strains and listens. The headline, however, announces coordinated DDOS attacks severe enough that the internet traffic across most of the continental US experiences disruptions. People are blaming the Russians, and Sarah huffs a laugh; it's good to know some things haven't changed in the thirty-some years she jumped forward.

Next to her, Kyle hefts an eyebrow, wanting an explanation for her amusement, but Sarah just waves a hand. She's not particularly in the mood to give him a verbal history of the Cold War. She nudges him and burrows into his side, and that is distraction enough that he doesn't inquire further.

 

***

 

They go for groceries after breakfast, take the scenic route along the desert back to their motel. By the time they arrive, it's nearly noon. The news on the radio is still talking about the attacks, and it sounds like an annoyance, little more. Sarah turns the radio off.

The mood of the news reports changes in the early afternoon. The DDOS theory is discarded; instead now there's talk of a computer virus of unknown origin, meant to disrupt the online infrastructure on a larger scale. It's not just the US anymore, but also Europe and China and Russia itself. The reporter detailing the costs of this attack, by the hour, looks significantly more distressed.

A distant feeling of _wrongness_ , vague apprehension, settles in the pit of Sarah's stomach. When she meets Kyle's eyes she sees the same sensation reflected there. But there's a ton of possible explanations. The war in the Middle East. Terrorism. Hackers making a spectacle of themselves. They don’t _have_ to assume the worst quite yet.

The thing is, neither of them was brought up on hope. Half an hour later, they’re packed up and moving. Where to, they’re not sure yet, keeping a nervous ear on the news reports on the radio. TV signals have started cutting out, and the laptop Sarah’s balancing on her lap while Kyle’s driving constantly loses connection. In the backseat, Pops makes unhappy faces at every new bit of data he catches, and Sarah is worried enough that, for once, she fails to find them hilarious.

 

***

 

Confirmation arrives in form of a broadcast announcement that the government has contacted Danny Dyson for aid. A computer virus has been identified as the source of the problem, and the former CEO of Cyberdyne, the news reporter says, elated, hopeful, has offered a way out. They have cobbled together an outdated version of Skynet and they’re positive they can make it operational, to take over for the malfunctioning network and purge the virus. Government and military functionality will be restored first, she explains, but civilian internet connections should return to normal soon, too.

Sarah knows this part of the story, because it’s part of the history imprinted on Pops’s CPU.

“It’s happening,” Kyle whispers next to her, his face pale. He takes one hand off the steering wheel to scratch his arm, where Sarah knows the work camp tattoo sits.

“No,” she says, shaking her head with vigor. “Nothing’s happening yet. We know where to go, now. Cyberdyne. We can stop this.”

And so they keep driving, deaf and blind without knowledge of Skynet’s plan this time around, no data available, but at least now they have a destination in mind. They’re utterly unprepared, but Sarah’s stubborn, and neither Pops nor Kyle bother offering a counterargument.

 

***

 

They’ve been on the road for a couple of hours when Pops informs them that satellite data is getting disrupted as well, and at that point, it doesn’t even need saying out loud. Needless to say, Skynet’s installation didn’t improve the situation any, and the news on the radio is getting more and more hectic – no one knows what’s really going on anymore. There are reports of attacks on military bases that seem to come from within, not a foreign country.

All of them know what that means. Kyle is the one who says it out loud. “It’s eliminating threats. Possible resistance.”

“Judgment day is inevitable,” says Pops, sounding solemn. “There’s a government bunker less than a hundred miles from here, which will offer sufficient protection. We have to – “

“We’re not going to hide,” Sarah says, and turns in her seat to glare at him properly. “Not yet. There has to be something else we can do.”

But Pops looks away from her, reaches forward to put a hand on Kyle’s shoulder instead, and Sarah knows they’re about to outvote her. United in the one thing they ever seem to agree on: her safety is paramount.

 

***

The bunker looks like no one has set foot in here for decades. An old, analog computer system that covers an entire wall whirs to life once Pops bypasses the power generator. In the corner sits a podium and a microphone, beneath a plate with the president’s eagle insignia, surrounded by heavy blue curtains.

Sarah idly wonders why no one tried to keep them from getting here. Maybe it’s because Sarah never got pregnant, and they’re not considered a threat if they show themselves unwilling to produce mankind’s savior. Maybe Skynet has figured out that everything they do, everything they _can_ do, will inevitably turn out to be futile. Both options ruffle her feathers.

Or maybe John and Pops were right: history wants Judgment Day to happen. They can delay it, reshape it, but there’s no way to prevent it for good.

The ring of a telephone, tinny and too loud, reverberating from the stone walls, pulls her from her thoughts. There’s an old-fashioned wall-phone nestled in between the computer’s row of servers, a little bright red lamp flickering in time with each ring. Sarah glances at Kyle, who shrugs. Pops just stares at her.

Sarah picks up the phone. Between heavy interference, she can make out a small, panicky voice, talking in a language she doesn’t understand.

“I’m sorry,” Sarah says. “I don’t… English, please?”

The person on the other end of the line clears their throat, stifles a sob, and asks in broken, heavily accented English, “Who’s there? American? Who’s in charge?”

Around them, the earth shakes with the impact of the first bombs, making dirt rain down from the stone structure the bunker was carved into. Sarah looks around the room, sends a glance to the podium that will never be used, spares a second to consider whether they even still have a government. Then her eyes settle on Kyle and Pops. Skynet might think they’re not a threat. It might think they’ll be lost without John, mankind an even easier target than ever before. But Skynet is _wrong_.

“We are,” she says, and means it, anger and determination blooming in her chest. “We’re in charge.”

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com).


End file.
